


No Pretence

by Sionna_Raven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 23:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11345127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sionna_Raven/pseuds/Sionna_Raven
Summary: After the death of someone close, different people have different ways to deal with their feelings. Sometimes those ways are not so different...





	No Pretence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an LJ fest in 2013 and I forgot to post it here.

The rain has been pouring down all day, not unusual but very fitting. Very few had attended the funeral of the empty coffin. Some of us had been turning our heads searching for the one who didn't come. Mrs. Black looked more like a stone gargoyle than ever before; she didn't turn her head to look for her other son, too proud to admit that she still hoped. My friend, who was not in his coffin, would have hoped, too. He would have admitted it, to me at least. When I told him how pathetic it was to hope for his return, he cocked his head, winked and smirked in this typical arrogant way only his bastard of a brother could match. I knew he was right, I'm no better. Gryffindors don't turn back on their chosen paths. It's only us who can't let go of those we … love.

 

There was no reception at Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Black refused to have one. It had taken Lucius a lot of effort to convince her to have a funeral. The noble family left the task of seeing Mrs. Black home to me. A servant's task. She always treated me as a servant; endured my presence because her son wanted me around. Lowly halfblood, son of a bloodtraitor. If it wasn't him we were mourning, I would have enjoyed to see her broken like that. Today she wanted my company. We shared something special, different from the others. We had loved him. Loved him for himself, for being the boy he was, not for his name or talent or the gold in the family vault. Black should have come. He would have caused a scandal, but since when did he care? I would have hated seeing him, but I hate him more for not being there.

 

I had offered Mrs. Black my arm for the walk back to the main gate. To my surprise she accepted. The Lestranges were walking behind, Bellatrix whispering with Rodolphus. Suddenly a loud noise made Mrs. Black flinch. Rabastan had thrown a stone at a huge black dog that was trotting along between the rows of gravestones. The dog startled and now stood there, staring at us, growling. Rabastan threw a second stone, but the dog made no move to run away. Bellatrix pointed her wand at it.

 

“Bella! No! Leave it alone.”

 

Bellatrix seemed about to snap at whomever had dared to give her an order, but seeing her aunt standing straight and looking her right in the eyes made her back down.

 

The dog stopped growling. It looked at Mrs. Black, hung its huge bear-like head and continued to trot again, heading in the direction we had come from. As we passed the gate a loud, desperate howl could be heard in the distance.

 

***

 

I didn't feel like Apparating home after I left Grimmauld Place. Instead I went to Regency Park and sat on a bench overlooking the lake. Regulus once told me that he had asked Sirius to take him to see the boats when they were little boys. He had still felt guilty, because Sirius was punished for it.

 

“He wouldn't let me tell the truth. He wouldn't let me say it was my fault.”

 

Gryffindor idiot at the age of six. Black couldn't protect his little brother from whatever had happened to him in the end. Neither could I protect my friend. He disappeared without a trace. The Dark Lord says Regulus Arcturus Black died for our noble cause. The others say the enemy must have killed him. I don't know what to believe. Does it matter? He's gone.

 

***

 

I left the park at dark. Wandering the streets without a real goal, I found myself standing at the door of this bar. One should think this is the last place I would want to go this night. I don't want company, certainly not the kind of company to be found here, but I don't want to be alone either.

 

***

 

My table in the corner is free. It allows me to observe without being noticed. A nod to Phil, the barman. The usual. He puts a pint of bitter in front of me and leaves me alone. He knows me; the patrons know me, too. A potion maker is always welcome in a place like this.

 

At the end of the bar one guy tries to hide that he's checking the content of his wallet. Poor sod, too old to get what he desires for free, not rich enough to afford it. Two of the resident boys are trying to raise the attention of a middle-aged businessman at a table. That one looks like he can afford the pleasures the big city has to offer. For tonight at least. He talks to the waiter who grins broadly, but nods after a few pound notes find their way into his hands. The two boys on the dance floor watch him hopefully, but he passes them and approaches a tall dark man at the bar. I can't see his face. He has shoulder-length wavy black hair tied up to a pony tail with a silver clasp. Dressed in black leather and a lavender shirt; a biker jacket with leather fringes at the seams casually thrown over the next stool. The jeans so tight over his arse that it should be illegal. The waiter puts his arm over the stranger's shoulder and whispers in his ear. The man turns his head to look at the man at the table and lets out a barking laugh. Cold shivers run through my spine. I will never forget that barking laughter. It's him! Black! Laughing, whispering with the waiter, one hand on the guy's bum. He turns to the barman. The three of them chuckle. Phil fills a large jug with ice water and the waiter serves it, shaking with suppressed laughter. Black points at his own glass to have it refilled and raises it in the direction of the businessman. He's still the same arrogant prat! I wish I knew a curse to wipe that smile off his face. The man at the table turns scarlet in embarrassment, but the two boys hurry to reassure him that they are more than willing to accept his invitation, if Black foolishly refuses.

 

Black searches his jacket for a fresh packet of fags. When he looks up again, our eyes meet. He looks at me, calmly, holding my gaze. He doesn't smile anymore. He seems to be waiting for something. Does he think I'd hex him in front of all those Muggles? He jerks his head as if inviting me over. I don't really know why I follow his invitation. To tell him what I think about his absence at his brother's funeral? To see if I can deal with him when he's on his own without his friends for backup? Deep inside I admit I'm just curious. The boy I knew didn't belong here; the man I see does. He orders another refill and one for me.

 

“Another gush of ice water, Black?”

 

“Do you need to cool down? I thought you could do with a warm-up, Snape.”

 

I watch Phil cautiously as he fills our glasses with a rich brown liquid. I sniff at my glass and hesitate. Black smirks and drinks first. Then I take a sip.

 

“Spanish brandy, a good one, but not as good as your father's.”

 

Black shrugs. “Muggle stuff. My father gets his from a small distillery near Jerez which is run by distant cousins.”

 

“And you are wallowing in memories of what you left behind? Regrets? Why weren't you there this afternoon?”

 

“Where do you think I should have been?”

 

How can he be so indifferent? Whatever had happened later, they once were close. Then I realize he is not indifferent. He's not even very successful at pretending to be. Black has closed his hands around the glass. Too tightly, the knuckles turned white. He needs to hold on to something.

 

“You know where you should have been: at Regulus' funeral.” I say softly.

 

He stares at his drink, “I didn't think I was welcome.” Downing the remains of his brandy he immediately gets another. “You were there, weren't you? He preferred your company to mine anyway. Maybe I was there.” The last words are merely a whisper.

 

“You were? Potter's cloak again? Did you tell your friends what you needed it for?”

 

“Not the cloak. I have other means.”

 

“Do you? May I ask...?”

 

“Still interested in finding out my secrets, Snape?”

 

I feel a lump in my throat at the memory. How dare he talk about it as if it was a joke? I rise from my seat with a cold look and turn to go. Black grabs my arm. Firmly at first, then he loosens his hold with an apologetic gesture.

 

“Don't go! I... didn't mean... I'm... Sorry.” Almost inaudibly he adds, “I don't want to be alone tonight.”

 

“Go to Potter. He'll cheer you up with some stupid prank. He always does. Or what about... Lupin? He should be more than willing to comfort you. It's not a full moon. He is available.” I snap at him.

 

His hand is still on my arm, now gently going down my forearm to touch – to almost hold my hand. His eyes lowered to stare at his feet as he slowly shakes his head.

 

“No, I want to be with someone whom I wouldn't need to pretend with.”

 

“Not pretend what?”

 

“Nothing special, just no pretence... Severus, please.” He smiles shyly. It looks so strange on him. Black is not supposed to be shy or sad, or pleading with me to keep him company. I remember a boy who asked for my company many times, for the same reason, and without the need to pretend indifference. Regulus asked for friendship. I'm not sure what it Sirius is asking for. I'm not sure what I am willing to give. There's never been friendship between us nor will there ever be.

 

It's too late to turn around. I've missed the moment to leave. I don't want to leave. Sirius lights two cigarettes and passes one to me. It tastes of brandy and him. He gently brushes the hair from my face, pushing away my shelter.

 

“Did you know that you have the most fascinating eyes I've ever seen?”

 

“Wwahht???”

 

“I said you have the most fascinating eyes I've ever seen. So dark, mysterious, blacker than anything. In the right light they are soft like velvet, but impossible to read. It is like you could touch me with a look, and tear me apart in your fury. The way you are looking at me tonight feels much better.”

 

“You are drunk.”

 

He chuckles at my statement. “Maybe I am, but your eyes will still be beautiful and fascinating when we're sober in the morning.”

 

“We'll never know, 'cause I won't be there tomorrow.”

 

Black takes a long drag. “Why not? I make damn good scrambled eggs for breakfast.”

 

I take a second too long to tell him that he's gone completely mad to suggest what he seems to suggest. Black puts down his cigarette and leans over. His lips brush my cheek and he whispers in my ear, “Don't waste your best chance to find out my secrets. I may be talking in my sleep, thooooooooough...” Goodness grace, he nibbles at my earlobe, “I have no intention to sleep soon. Pillow talk is also considered an effective method of spying.”

 

He slides off his stool and stands close beside me; much too close for my sanity. His eyes glitter with familiar mischief. I know I'll regret listening to him. I know I want nothing more than listening to him. He continues his whispers, “Maybe I'm curious about your secrets. I want to know if your hands are skilled in things other than slicing shrivelfigs. I want to know what you can do with your tongue other than making venomous remarks. I've always admired your... wand work.”

 

Black casually pushes some money towards Phil, puts his arm around my waist and steers me to the door. I let him. I'm spellbound. I must be drunk. Salazar, help me! The cold air outside gives me back my ability to speak, but not much of my reason.

 

“Would you mind letting go of me, Black? I can walk without assistance.”

 

“I would mind indeed. I like the feel of you in my arms.” He leads me to a dark doorway and closes both of his arms around me, covering my bum with his hands, and pulling me even closer.

 

“I need you to hold onto me firmly while I Apparate us side-along to my flat. By the way, my name is Sirius. Would you mind calling me that? Say my name. Say it, …. Severus!”

 

“Sirius.” I say against my will.

 

The sound of my name and his is the last real thing before the world dissolves as he Disapparates us.

 

 

***

 

Within seconds we stand in from to a row of two-story brick houses. I know we're still in London, but where exactly I can't tell. His flat is on the ground floor. All perfectly Muggle, but I can sense the heavy protection wards. The fondness for Spanish brandy is not the only family tradition he kept. The furniture is modern. All is remarkably clean and well-ordered except for a corner in the front room where on a plastic cover his motorbike stands, tools and spare parts strewn around it. I've heard people talk about it. It can fly. In the middle of the room is a comfortable-looking couch and a coffee table. Sirius throws his leather jacket over the bike and gestures me to take seat on the sofa. I don't. There's something that caught my attention. One wall is covered by a huge book shelf.

 

“Let me see what's in fashion with cool Gryffindors.” I say and walk over to have a look. Sirius laughs. “Have fun. Would you like a cuppa? Coffee? Tea? Or rather one of the really good Spanish stuff?”

 

“Coffee, black, if you don't mind.” I reply and he disappears in the kitchen. I skim over the backs of the books, paperbacks of Muggle classics, poetry, some in French and Latin, leather-bound spellbooks, mostly Defence against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration, a few potion standards. All look read. Some have paper snippets sticking out as bookmarks. I pull one out. Many passages are underlined, doodles and comments on the margins. I've always known he isn't really stupid, just good at pretending. There's one book on Muggle herbal medicine. It almost falls apart, when I take it out. The dedication in the all too familiar hand-writing nearly makes my heart stop.

 

“For good boy Padfoot.

Lily”

 

Someone has drawn a rough sketch of an Irish wolfhound peeing at a lamppost below. How many times have I heard them call each other by those infantile names? How many times have Lily and I laughed about their childishness? Now she is using it herself. My hands are shaking, but I can't help turning the pages. Almost every free space is covered with annotations in both their hands. They must have passed the book back and forth, discussing the Muggle concepts of potion ingredients. Sirius returns with two steaming mugs. He frowns as he sees me with the book. He puts the mugs on the shelf and snatches the book from my hand.

 

“Do you want to spent this evening with reading or shall we try something more pleasurable?”

 

Again I feel like he's put a spell on me. They call him Padfoot. It's one of the names Muggles have given to the Grim, the black dog that is said to haunt churchyards and lonely highways in search of its lost master. The feeble-minded believe it's a Dark creature. Not long ago I would have agreed to it being a fitting name. It's probably just a pun on his name. I've done some research on the legend of the Grim, when people were saying Regulus was followed by one. The tales of black dogs originate in the times of the plague when many of those loyal animals lost their homes due to the death of their masters. They guarded their graves and roamed the country side in search of food. There was nothing supernatural about them, but they were a danger to livestock and certainly to those who tried to rob the dead of their treasures. What would it be like to have one of them as a companion? With bitterness I remember Sirius always watching Potter's back. Regulus never understood what Potter had done to earn Sirius undivided loyalty.

 

Undivided? Maybe not. Tonight he has chosen my company over Potter's. He has put his arms around me again. His hands while well-manicured are those of a man who knows to use them. I'm sure he doesn't just flick his wand to get his motorbike going. Gently kissing my neck, his stubble scratching my skin, making me shiver again. I'm reminded that he's not one of the rent boys who do their utmost to be smooth, hairless, feminine. Neither is he like the excited, clumsy boys at school. He makes me feel wanted. What does he want from me?

 

“I'm not him. Not your brother.”

 

He laughs out and tips my nose with his finger.

“I know you're not him. There are outstanding differences.”

 

He makes a bit of a show pretending to have difficulties avoiding collision when he kisses me. Kisses me! Kisses me like I've never been kissed before. This is getting ridiculous! I need to keep my mind. We've both been lonely, looking for company for a sleepless night. Another guy to hold on to, a good shag, curiosity, the thrill of danger. NOT THIS! Not with HIM! He shouldn't make me feel wanted, wanted for myself. A simple kiss shouldn't unsettle me.

 

He steers me to the couch, never letting go of my mouth. His tongue meeting mine, he nibbles at my lips. His hands found their way into my shirt. They are warm, incredibly warm on my body. Determined, always knowing what they're doing and yet... so gentle. I'm not used to gentleness. I'm used to groping hands claiming what they consider their right or to cold and calculated skill fulfilling my needs to earn a favour. I lie against the armrest, feel Sirius' cock pressing against my thigh trough the fabric of his jeans. People don't get that hard for holding me in their arms and kissing me. He has stopped kissing and is looking at me. Looking at me with beaming eyes. They are supposed to be closed. Closed to let him imagine he's with somebody hot, somebody he wants. Sirius takes my hand and places it under his own shirt. His body is as warm as his hand. I feel soft skin and firm muscles. I feel him tremble as my hand moves over his back. I turn away as his hand touches my hair.

 

“Careful, Black, don't get greasy.”

 

“Don't be such an idiot, Snape.” He brushes the strands out of my face. “Your grease sticks with you. I know a spell to repel it.”

 

He effortlessly defies my attempt to push him away. “Now in the right light and setting I think I need to change my mind about your hair. I'd call it soft and smooth and shiny.”

 

“No pretence you said. Stop sweet talking like I'm a Hufflepuff 4th year.”

 

“You don't like sweet talk? No, probably not, though you of all people should know that I never say anything nice unless I mean it. More spicy and action instead of words then?”

 

He quickly opens the buttons of my shirt, one after the other. His fingers trace the lines of my ribs as he pushes the shirt aside.

 

“Such a skinny, little snake. The rumours that the Hogwarts elves cut the Slytherin share in half are true then? One would have thought that you put on some since then.”

 

“If you don't like it, you don't need to...”

 

“But I do like it. I do like it very much... very... mmmmuch.” He starts covering my chest with kisses, licking, nibbling at my nipples. Tickling my sides. It's like he considers me kind of delicate, fragile. I would object to it, but it feels so good. He moves down further, trails along the waistband with his tongue.

 

“Why don't you just get a move on...?”

 

Has he been waiting for the invitation? He opens my flies and pulls the trousers and pants down to my knees in an instant and hesitates... I expect the usual joke about Little Snivelly. Heard it one time too many. He looks at it fondly instead, almost admiringly and certainly more than pleased.

 

“Wow! That exceeds expectations.”

 

“Too much for you to handle?”

 

He chuckles. “You can't take a compliment as such, can you? … and no, I can handle it perfectly.”

 

Good Salazar, he can handle it! Slowly, gently, too gently, perfectly... Don't lose control of the situation, Severus. Don't let him know how good that feels. How to do that, when he himself so convincingly gives me the impression that he really enjoys what he's doing? Enjoys to be on his knees between my legs and sucking my cock? That can't be true. He must be up to something. I've got to figure it out. I grab his long soft locks, pulling them as he puts more pressure on. He follows my pull, jerking his head a bit to look up to me, as if asking: “Not good?” Keep in control! Sirius pulls off my trousers, shoes and socks. I let him. Easier to move, if he tries … something.

 

“I want to see you... Strip!” Sirius blinks at the commanding tone, smirks and stands up. Slowly, he opens his shirt, again one button after the other. He lets it slide over his shoulders to reveal... He's so confident about his looks, his body and for good reason. If I was describing the perfect male anatomy, he was pretty close. Slender but not thin, muscled but not too much, a light tan, darker on his arms, a bit of dark hair on his chest and a line of it down from his navel. The two or three scars - I know some of my curses are probably responsible for – don't spoil the image. He kicks off his boots, pulls at his socks, hopping on one leg, laughing unashamed. When he opens the button of his jeans I try to look smug. I am not going to be impressed or even interested. The damn guy knows how to do a striptease. He pushes the jeans and the pants down his hips so slowly, making sure that his hands doesn't cover the important bits. The bit that is not a bit at all, but a good long cock, hard. Hard for me. He's all teasing, tempting, challenging me to take what I want. He wants me take hold of him, take hold of it. He moans as I pull him down again. Into my arms, into a kiss. There's nothing more real than our two cocks rubbing against each other, rubbing against our stomachs. His hands all over my body, my hands all over his, his tongue, his lips... Moaning, whispering in my ear: “Fuck me...”

 

Yesss by Salazar, I want to fuck him. I want... want him. Want to claw my fingers into his hips, thrust my cock into this firm arse, deep, fast, make him want it, make him beg for more, faster. I want to be rough, want to show him!

He spreads his legs to let me explore and grope for my wand to cast the cleaning spell. I feel him shudder at the sensation. It's like a voice in my head is egging me on: “Take him! Use him for your own pleasure! Abuse him!” , but then he opens his eyes, sparkling so brightly and so warm... beaming, glittering with lust and there's more than that. There's a kind, gentle affection and... I can't believe it. There's trust. Trust that I won't just abuse him. I curse my weakness. I used to believe I feel only hatred for him. Desire to conquer what almost everybody at school had wanted, but it is nothing like a conquest. It's a gift, given so freely that I simply can't...

Sirius notices my hesitation.

 

“Shall we move somewhere more comfy, Sev?”

 

I must have looked at him in obvious bewilderment at the sudden, unexpected use of my nickname, because he chuckles and goes on: “Bedroom, you know? I've heard that's where most people do it.”

 

 

 

He doesn't wait for my answer, takes my hand and gives me barely enough time to grab my wand while he grabs his. Then I'm dragged through the door and pushed onto the large, soft and ridiculously old-fashioned, chunky four-poster bed. He's suddenly on top of me and again I'm panicking. He's tricked me to believe I could get him, but now he's got me! My body goes rigid; I press my legs together in the weak attempt to avoid the unavoidable. My wand has slipped from my hand when I landed on the bed. Only two inches from my fingers, but miles away when Black is holding me down.

 

The weight is gone. Black is gone. I should feel relieved that he changed his mind, but I'm not. Black lies on his back beside me, staring at the ceiling. He turns his head towards me as I move again.

 

“Make up your mind, Snape. This won't work when you expect an attack every second.”

 

“What else should I expect from you, Black? It's not like you've never given me a reason.”

 

I wish I could come up with something sharper, more eloquent, more... I don't know. The sad look from his puppy eyes takes away sarcastic skills. The warmth emanating from his naked body still makes me want to feel him, to touch him, to believe... Why can't I take what he offers and leave or leave right now?

 

“What does it take to make you trust me enough to get on with …?”

 

“Your hands tied to the bed posts.” I snap, waiting for him to blink in shock and finally throw me out or hex me. Sirius does blink, but then he smirks.

 

“You're a naughty boy, Sev.” he chuckles. I take a deep breath as he stretches out lavishly and put his hands over his head. “Use a spell, I'm too lazy to search for a rope.” He yawns in mocking and stretches even longer, spreading his legs a bit more. I flick my wand. For a second he seems to tremble, having second thoughts about his reckless offer.

I wonder what makes him trust that I won't take advantage of the situation in a way he won't like. He's right, but how can he know?

 

I never know what people really think of me. I always expect the worst. Regulus used to scold me for expecting everyone to hate me, for attacking them before they attack me. He couldn't understand. Everybody liked him and those who didn't would have been taught the hard way to be nice to the younger son of the Blacks. By me or yes, I have to admit that, also by his brother. Hardly anyone dared to be at the receiving end of our curses. Sirius is the same. People adore him and he always knew they do. I can't help to admire him just now.

 

In a strange way he seems to be even stronger with his hands tied up than before and irresistible. It would be a perfect chance for revenge to just leave him like that, but I can't. I can't avert my eyes from his almost perfect body which is at my disposal. I let my hands wander over his skin. Mine to enjoy. He twitches when it tickles. He moans as I pinch his nipples. My hands stroll down. He spreads his legs even wider when I stroke gently the inner sides of his thighs.

 

“Yes, show me how much you want it. Lift your bum.”

 

I grab a pillow to push it under his arse. Perfect position. He watches me summon the lube and flinches in expectancy of the cold liquid. I can't hide a smile. This is my own recipe, no coldness, no squishy feel. It not only lubricates the area but also makes it more sensitive to touch and contains a light muscle relaxant. I could enter him right now without any further preparation. I won't, of course. I want him to beg for it. It doesn't take much. He pushes against my finger, fingers, more fingers. Moaning, arching up, licking his half-open lips as if he's hungry. Hungry for my cock.

 

I move over to the head of the bed. Sirius is straining his neck to reach it with his tongue.

 

“ You really need it, don't you? A cock-sucking slut, that's what you are.”

 

Sirius responds only with a deeper moan and more vigorous sucking. He's trying to swallow it whole. Fucking his mouth with my cock, his hole with my fingers. His tied up hands grabbing the poles at the head of the bed give him the momentum to curl up with his butt to let me push in as deeply as possible. His eyes are closed. He seems to have forgotten about anything but his lust, his desire to be filled at both ends. My palm lies on his balls, rubbing, squeezing. The thought that I can give so much pleasure makes me shiver. My actions to be met with lust. Me to be longed for!?

 

Rubbish, it's a purely physical reaction to stimulation. It's not like I'm a clumsy idiot who doesn't know how to pleasure a man. He's probably envisioning one of his former much more attractive lovers. I push in deeper, touch his prostrate. He twitches, his cock twitches. Point proven!

 

My cock slips out at his sudden movement. I gently press it against his lips. Sirius opens his eyes instead, bright and clear and perfectly aware of the situation. Aware that it's me.

 

“Sev...”

 

Begging? Who needs begging? I crawl on top of him, never losing contact with these sparkling eyes that can see me; look at me like no one has ever looked at me before. I don't need a spell to see the image in his mind. Myself as he sees me, as he wants and likes to see me.

 

My groping hand and cock easily find his entrance and only the softly muttered unbinding spell is needed to make him claw his hands into my shoulders to pull me in. Into a kiss... soft lips, probing tongues, hard thrusts, gentle reception, raving passion, heat and warmth, moans and whispers, suppressed screams, my stomach rubbing over his hard cock, everything and nothing... Sirius.

 

“Want to see it...”

 

Bloody hell! “Aaaghhhh” The explosion that runs through my body turns into a flash of darkness.

 

Only half aware of what I'm doing I let go of my cock and take hold of his. It doesn't take more than one stroke or two, a rub with my thumb and his come runs over my fingers to mix with mine. I roll off. For some minutes there's nothing to be heard than our heavy breaths.

 

I listen to Sirius' breathing becoming more and more steady. No, I don't think I will wait for what comes next. The magic moment is over. He will either turn on his side, grab the blanket and start to snore or show a minimum of manners – 'That was nice. We should do it again some time. I'm afraid I'm too exhausted to see you out, but you will find your way. See you, Snape...'

 

It's raining heavily now. The wind blows the rain against the window. I wish I could just curl up and stay in this warm, soft bed with Sirius at my side. It can't be helped. Who wants to wake up in the morning to find me in his bed?

 

I sit on the side of the bed and summon my clothes. Behind me Sirius moves and yawns.

 

“Goodness Sev. Don't be such a prissy. No need to wear pants to go to the bathroom. It's only me seeing you and I like what I see. …but before,” He throws his arms around me and pulls me backwards. “I want another kiss to endure the cold bed while you're gone.”

 

Bathroom? It doesn't even occur to him that I was about to leave? He doesn't expect me to leave? Obviously not, he has no intention to let me go. No intention to let go of me.

 

***

 

 

I wake up late next morning to the blaring sounds from a radio. Muggle rock music! What else at Black's place? Much more welcome is the scent of fresh coffee, toast and frying eggs. I'm surprised he keeps his promise of a good breakfast and even got up before me to make it. The man himself appears in the open door.

 

“Good morning, Severus.” He grins his unbearable, broad grin. “About time you woke up. Breakfast's almost ready.”

 

I grab my trousers and shirt. This morning he doesn't seem to mind me getting dressed to go to the bathroom. Though he himself couldn't be bothered. He wears an apron with the image of a red-haired chef from a kids' TV show I remember vaguely and that's all he wears. I don't mind the sight of it, though bathroom and breakfast are more urgent right now.

 

“You'll find some fresh towels on the toilet seat!”

 

“Thank you very much.” I reply too sharply. I'm so fed up with any kind of shower or shampoo jokes they loved to make.

 

Sirius stirs the eggs in the pan and chuckles. “I can lend you a hand...”

 

I bang the door shut behind me.

 

When I return, Sirius is talking to the Floo.

 

“... no thank you, I have other plans for the weekend, Lily.”

 

A rustling noise in the fire, a male voice: “Bring her along! It's about time you find someone decent.”

 

“James Potter, get your head out and set the table! Frank, Alice and Remus should be here soon.” More rustling, shoving, some protest noises from Potter later Lily talks to Sirius again in a lowered voice. “You know you can bring... him along anytime. Don't listen to my idiot of a husband.”

 

I wait for Sirius' answer to that with apprehension and curiosity. How will he wiggle out of that? He takes a moment and then speaks in an unusually serious tone.

 

“I wish to introduce him to you soon. It's too early now, too fresh, but I...” His voice becomes merely a whisper and I can't understand his next words.

 

“That's wonderful, Sirius. I'm so glad you are happy. He must be very special to make you say that.”

 

What? What the hell has he told her?

 

“He is special indeed, Lily. Takes a bit to get used to though. Give us time to work it out. You'll understand why when you meet him.” he chuckles as if this was a joke and not most likely giving them the shock of their lives, if they knew.

 

I decide to make a noise to alert him to my presence again. He turns around smiles and sticks his head back into the fireplace. “Got to go now. See you next week, Lily.”

 

Sirius rises and walks up to me. He pulls me into his arms and kisses me. “C'mon, let's have breakfast.”

 

Unnerving and irresistible at the same time. Has he really said what I think he said? What does it mean? I wiggle out of his embrace, but follow him to the table. The scrambled eggs look good and I'm really hungry. Sirius is watching me tug in with a satisfied smile. I can't let him.

 

“Where's your Gryffindor bravery? You haven't told Potter the truth about your preferences.” I say trying to provoke him.

 

Sirius' eyes turn to slits for a second; then he shrugs. “I have told him, but he prefers to ignore it.”

 

“Makes him nervous, doesn't it? His best friend being a poof?”

 

Sirius shakes his head vigorously. “No, he thinks I simply don't want to get too involved with a girl, because I'm afraid of marriage. He says I get things straight when I meet the right one.” He chuckles at the pun, but it sounds a bit forced. Then he shakes his head as if to shake off the unpleasant thoughts. “ So... what are our plans for today? I'd love to take you for a ride, but it doesn't seem to be a good idea in this weather.”

 

“We're making plans for the day now? What makes you think I want to stay?”

 

“Don't you? Got anything better to do? Need to brew up something dark, Snape?”

 

I rise from my chair and turn to search for my jacket. “Yes of course, Black. I always brew up something dark.”

 

“Reg said you don't. He said you're no worse than I am. How many more times I have to ask you to stay with me... for a few hours more at least?”

 

Sirius also rises from the table. I expect him to block the door, but he turns his back and stares out of the window into the drizzling rain. There's a lump in my throat at this sight. He looks lost and lonely and at the same time more desirable than ever. My blood rushes into the lower region of my body which makes it almost impossible to keep my mind together. I don't have any appointments or other plans for today and it would be foolish to miss the opportunity. Foolish to leave; foolish to stay. I am a fool. A fool to follow him and put my arms around him. Holding him, feeling his warm body again, smelling the odd mixture of sandalwood soap and fried bacon in his hair. … a few hours more.

 

A few more hours of warmth, of forgetting the rain, the outside world, forgetting we're enemies. I chuckle inside at the memory of him talking of “time to work it out”, about “understanding when THEY meet me”. That's not going to happen and he knows it as well as I do. Let's pretend we don't need to pretend for some time more. Sirius turns around in my embrace. My hands cup his bum and then I let them wander up his naked back. I pull at the ribbons that hold his apron.

 

“Get this ridiculous thing off...”

 

“Why don't you just say you want to see me naked again?” He laughs and presses against me. I undo the ribbon at his neck and pull the apron off. “Much better, you looked like an idiot.”

 

“Now I don't? You still like what you see?” Sirius takes a step back to give me a better look. His cock is hard again, straining its head towards me.

 

“Back to bed.” I whisper. He follows my suggestion in an instant and falls into the cushions. I halt for a second. It still feels unreal. Like magic, magic unknown at Hogwarts. Magic that makes us almost forget that we are supposed to be enemies. Regulus would have liked to see us together. Well, maybe not exactly seeing us doing what we do just now. It feels good, so good. Sirius feels good. Sirius seems to feel good as well which is much more surprising.

 

“Skinny little snakey.” He calls me again while his hands wander over my skin. He's smiling at me. I close my eyes and let him explore. Then he suddenly stops and sits up. I open my eyes alerted. He has been running his fingers gently down the inner side of my arm.

 

His eyes flicker. He felt the traces of magic. Dark magic! I shouldn't have underestimated him. Thoughtless, careless! I should have known he'd notice it when we get too close. Sirius looks at me questioningly. I sit up, leaning against the headboard. My hands grope the bedside for my wand. Sirius catches my wrist before I can point it at him.

 

 

“What is it?” His voice sounds dangerously calm.

 

“It's the Mark of the Dark Lord. Don't pretend you didn't know!” I snap at him.

 

Sirius slowly loosens his grip on my wrist. He seems more embarrassed than furious as I expected.

 

“Show me.” He hisses.

 

My mind is swirling. Show him! Make him flinch at the sight! … He must have known it, guessed it. What did he expect after all that happened? … Don't want to lose him. Don't want to see the disgust in his face. … Maybe... maybe he would change his mind, knowing that... Regulus always hoped he would change his mind one day. … He's been so different last night. Maybe he would take Regulus' place... Rubbish! Petrify him! Wipe out his memory! You knew it wouldn't last. A mad adventure, a dream, for a few hours only... more hours than you expected. …but I want him to know, to see for himself, to know what it means to me to be a Death Eater, what it meant to his brother. My brother among the Dark Lord's followers!

 

Slowly I wave my wand to undo the charm that hides the Mark from strangers' eyes. I carefully avoid to touch my left forearm with the wand. I don't want to alert Him. Sirius stares at the Mark taking form, getting darker. The snake in the skull flicks its tongue in Sirius' direction as if it knows he's the enemy.

 

Sirius' eyes have turned to slits. His face is twisted by hatred and disgust. I should put an end to it now.

 

“Branded like a slave, like cattle! He branded you like he owns you! Why? Why did you let them do that to you? ... Did they...? Did he, Regulus... did they do it to him, too?”

.

I thought I was prepared for his anger, but I could prepare for the furious attack that follows now. My wand is simply knocked off my hand and lands on the floor as Sirius pushes me into the pillows and holds me down with the whole weight of his body.

 

“You bloody idiot! You goddamn stupid fool! I can understand that my brother did it. He believed all the cock and bull stories they whispered in our ears all those years, but you! You should have known better! You're not a Pureblood! You know their ideas are bullocks! He's using you! They are using you! They know that you have more magic talent in your little finger – stop looking like that. I'm serious – than half of my “royal” cousins have in their whole body! Got got to get rid of that! I'm not letting you get wasted like Reg!...”

 

He continues yelling at me, calling me names that convinced me that some of his “royal” ancestors must have been lords at the fishmonger court.

 

I struggle to catch breath and answer his repeated question. Why? ...Why not?!!!

 

“The Dark Lord himself spoke to us, to Regulus and me. Your cousins may think it's about blood, but he doesn't really care about blood. It's about magic, about being a real wizard! All the things we could achieve, all the magic we could learn and use. Use as it is our natural right to do! No more hiding! We will be judged by what we do not by who our parents are! ”

 

“Perhaps a gush of cold water will put an end to your delusions.”

 

Sirius grabs me like I was a small child, doesn't care that I am struggling to get free. He picks me up and carries, drags me into the bathroom and pushes me in. I try to get away, but he has nailed me under the shower. All the bad memories return, of my father locking me in the garden shed when he had caught me trying some magic or when he just was in a bad mood because of a hangover or because he couldn't find some coins to go to the pub. Similar memories of the Marauders when they had pushed me into a dark corner, laughing at my helplessness. Sirius is not laughing now. His face is serious and sad and determined to do what he thinks is right... Determined to do what? For a moment I wish he would just beat me senseless and deliver me to the Aurors. He's going to do that anyway. What else can he do? Goose flesh is crawling all over my naked body. I feel like crumbling, crumbling until I'm nothing, until I just vanish through the drain. Escape from this brave Gryffindor who holds me upright under the squall of ice cold water. The cold makes me feel numb. Doesn't he feel the cold? His body is still so warm. The only warmth I will feel for a long time. He's right I am a fool, a fool for having followed him into this trap last night. A fool for enjoying the warmth of his presence so much that I didn't leave in time. As in the old tale, leave before the golden coach turns back into a pumpkin and the Sniverella becomes a Death Eater again. Sniverella! I let out a mad laugh.

 

Then there's that incredible warmth again as Sirius wraps me into a towel. Does he believe he could wash the Mark away with water or rub it off, if he tries hard enough?

 

He carries me back to bed. I don't understand a thing he's doing. I'm tightly tugged into the blanket. Sirius gently removes a wet strand of my hair from my face. He's smiling, a sad smile.

 

“We need to find a way to get you out of it. I don't want to lose you, too.”

 

“What makes you think I want to get out? Don't you get it? My fellow Death Eaters respect me. You and your lot were the only ones who treated me with disgust! For not being as cool as you were, for being a Slytherin snake. Dark Arts! Don't be ridiculous! You know as well as I do that most of it is just too advanced for the morons at the Ministry. “

 

“You don't get it! You'll end up like my brother or worse in Azkaban!”

 

“Not, if you keep quiet about it.”

 

Sirius gives me a confused look. “It's not me you've got to beware of, you stupid git.”

 

He leans against the headboard, his eyes half closed, nibbling at his upper lip. I crawl from under the blanket and sit beside him. We both don't speak for an endless minute, until I break the silence: “What are we going to do about it now?”

 

Sirius turns his face towards me. There it is again, the old mischievous grin.

“Now? Nothing. I don't have any plans for today. Do you?”

 

There's something in this smile I can't resist.

 

***

I must have fallen asleep afterwards, because now I find myself alone in his bed. The clock on his bedside table says 5pm. No music from the kitchen this time. On his empty pillow lies a piece of paper.

 

“Getting something to eat.

Back soon, keep the bed warm.

 

Love

Sirius XXX

 

 

I am surprised by myself that I trust his word, even more that he trusts me to stay alone in his flat. I won't waste that opportunity to find out more about him, get dressed and take a good look around, feeling almost guilty. On the wall there are a few pictures. I take one off just to see Potter frown in his frame. He is standing on a field in the country. At his side there's a huge black dog. Its bright grey eyes twinkle from behind the fringes of fur. Potter grabs its collar and tries to pull it away. The dog shakes its head and slowly wags its tail at me. Black dog! The black dog! The one that watched Regulus! The one that was on the graveyard. Padfoot!

A chance to find out his secrets... Of course, that's how he could spend time with the werewolf!

 

I stare at the dog which freed itself from Potter's hold and jerks its head looking at me with those unnatural eyes. It yawns. Rows of white, dangerous sharp teeth. Yes, that dog would be strong enough to keep the werewolf in check. Strong enough to take on any human enemy... I can't help to admire the magic behind this transformation. I read about it, but never dared to try it myself. How much practice, how much confidence did it take to do that on his own, without Ministry supervision, as a student? … and the audacity to do this in secret! Keeping it secret even now. Not from me. Has he thought I wouldn't figure it out the moment I see this picture? Has he just recklessly forgotten about the picture? I laugh at the dog that sits down and raises its paw. The man has returned without me noticing and is standing behind me. He reaches out to put the picture back in its place.

 

“Didn't know you're interested in dogs.” he laughs, though his voice quivers just a little bit.

 

“I'm only interested in one dog, Padfoot.” I say. Sirius' gaze is fixed on me for a moment. Then he relaxes.

 

“We're even then?”

 

“Not quite. Where's the food you promised?”

 

He holds up two plastic bags. “I hope you like Chinese?”

 

“I'd eat anything now, unless it's dog food.”

 

“I don't fancy dog food either... though there' not much difference to fortune cookies.”

 

We have early dinner in bed. Sirius tries to teach me to use the chopsticks, but I prefer to summon a fork from the kitchen. After dinner he stretches out lazily on the bed and lights a cigarette. He shoves the packet over. I take one, too and lean against the headboard beside him. There's the small figure of a dog on his silver lighter. In the corner are his initials, SB.

 

“Care to show it to me?”

 

“Sure...” In front of my eyes fur starts covering his skin and the dog stands on the sheets, tail-wagging and trying to lick my face. I try to ward him off.

 

“Stop it, you slobbering mutt! Stop it I say!”

 

Of course he doesn't stop. He puts his paw on my chest and nudges me with his nose. His long fur is softer than it looks and tickles me. I chuckle and he rolls over on his back showing his belly. I lean over to pet him. The stupid mutt takes his chance to grab my pillow with his teeth and shakes it like mad. I make the mistake to grab the other end and and we're engaged in a tug o'war. The cloth and seams of the pillow make a scrunching noise and we're showered in feathers. Padfoot drops the pillow and looks so guilty that I laugh out loud. Then Sirius is back and with one flick of his wand vanishes the feathers and the pillow rags.

 

“You destroyed my bedding, Sev!” he scolds me in jest.

 

“Me? It's not my fault that you're not house-trained.”

 

“Padfoot is perfectly house-trained.” he pouts. “You started the pillow fight.”

 

I pick one overlooked feather from his hair and tickle his nose. He pulls me over and nudges me with his nose like the dog has done. “Padfoot likes you.” he whispers into the kiss.

 

“How do you do it? I mean I know the theory, but how does it feel?”

 

“It's hard to describe. Concentrate on your inner self and just change. Have you never thought of trying it yourself? Not curious at all?”

 

“To end up as an earthworm? No thanks.”

 

Sirius looks pointedly at a certain part of my body. “I doubt that...”

 

“Do you think of anything else than sex sometimes?”

 

“It's hard to concentrate on anything else in bed with you.”

 

It's hard to concentrate on anything else in bed with him. Why should we? Times passes too fast anyway.

 

***

It's just before sunrise when I finally need to go home. He points his wand at the lighter. The initials change to SS. Sirius and Severus! He puts it in my hand.

 

“I want you to have this to remember.”

 

His eyes are darkened again. He stands up and stares out of the window again, while I silently close the door. On the street I turn around and see he's still standing at the window. I do what I need to do and point my wand at him. He smiles at me and nods.

 

“Obliviate!”

 

I apparate at the river banks and walk down the dark streets to my house. While searching my pockets for a cigarette, I wish there had been another solution. I will never forget, Sirius. The lighter feels cold in my hand. The dog wags its tail. A flame springs up, blue and brighter than anything I have ever seen. I take a drag and close the lighter in my hand. Where does this lighter come from? I shrug. Who cares? It's pretty and the letters are my own initials. What a weird coincidence.

 


End file.
